A Warrior s Desire - By Pamela Palmer Page 0,21

intoned.

"You will administer your own punishment."

He flung a knife at the Marceil, hitting him in the face with the handle of the six-inch blade.

The slave merely winced and bent to pick up the weapon that had fallen to the ground.

Without pause or hesitation, he rose and stabbed himself through the gut, sinking the blade to the hilt.

A scream erupted from his throat, but he merely pulled the bloody blade from his body and stabbed himself again.

And again.

And again.

"Jesus."

Charlie's head swam, his own gut clenching at the horror of what he was witnessing, at the bloodcurdling screams that went on and on and on.

"Don't react," Tarrys whispered at his shoulder.

"This is common punishment.

He'll heal."

Charlie's jaw clenched until he thought he'd break teeth.

His hands fisted until his nails drew blood.

Every muscle in his body, every tendon, begged to pummel the Esri bastard until he was the one screaming.

But the Esri showed no interest in them.

Nor was he standing along the line of their path.

Instead, he showed every indication that he meant to let them pass without incident, giving Charlie no excuse to attack when doing so could prove suicidal.

He wasn't a fool.

But as they drew close, the Esri's gaze shifted to Tarrys.

The hair rose on the back of Charlie's neck, a feral sound clawing at his throat.

He felt Tarrys move away from the Esri, but he forced himself not to visibly react to her fear.

He knew he must treat her as if she really were his slave.

Their path brought them to within a dozen feet of the Marceil who now lay on the blood-soaked ground, still thrusting the knife into his gut, screaming in agony at the self-inflicted torture, unable to stop until his master freed him.

A common punishment, Tarrys called it.

How many times had she been forced to suffer the same? The thought had his blood boiling, but he struggled to mask his emotion even as the determination to not allow her to become enslaved again set up a pounding beat in his brain and chest.

The Esri continued to stare at Tarrys as they passed, but he never said a word, never engaged either of them in any way.

"Tell me if he starts after us," he told Tarrys softly when they were far enough past that the man wouldn't hear.

Looking over his shoulder was a sign of weakness he couldn't afford, but he needed some warning if they were about to be attacked.

"He watches, but does not follow."

"He watches you."

"Yes," she said softly.

"He wants you."

The certainty infuriated him.

"He wants another slave and knows I'm not bound to you."

"Like hell you're not bound to me."

"I have hair, Charlie.

No enslaved Marceil has hair."

Damn.

"So does that mean he knows I'm not Esri?" "No.

You're clearly a dark blood with your human coloring.

There aren't many in Esria, but there are some."

"Yet he didn't challenge me for you."

"No.

But the next Esri might.

Charlie, I hadn't thought my hair would be a problem.

It wouldn't be if I'd remained in hiding.

But now that we travel together, my having hair will make them wonder if you're too magically weak to enslave me.

It's going to put you in danger.

I need to scrape it off."

"No."

He'd seen the way she touched it, the pleasure her growing hair brought her.

"Then I need to go back to following you, unseen, so if I'm caught they won't suspect your weakness."

"Absolutely not."

He glanced over his shoulder at her, frowning.

"He's the first Esri we've seen in two days.

Once we start into the mountains, we probably won't see another.

We should be there by nightfall."

The problem was, Charlie didn't put it past this one to follow them.

As they'd drawn close, he'd noticed the cunning look in the Esri's eyes, a look he hadn't liked.

A look that had him certain he was going to have to watch his back...and his partner's.

"What's he up to, eaglet?" "They're returning to the woods.

They may have a camp there.

Or perhaps a small village.

Few people live in the Banished Lands."

When they'd crested the next shallow hill and were safely hidden from prying eyes, Charlie stopped and turned, his gaze searching the horizon even as his arms reached for Tarrys and pulled her tight against him.

She came to him willingly, curving her arms around his waist and pressing her forehead to his chest.

For long moments, they stood like that, holding each other, letting the joint fear slide away as they drew strength in one another's arms.

"You okay?" he asked quietly.

She looked up at him with a gaze that was at once shy and warm.

"I am now."

Sweet.

Beautiful.

The words flitted